The Best Kind of Reunion
by DoombotScout
Summary: The best kinds of reunions always Have the touching part that pulls at your heartstrings, the part that makes your head hurt, and the part that makes you feel sick to the stomach. And this reunion is one of the best. Too bad that it ends up bringing an end to the world along with it. Rated T for violence and slight use of alcohol. Collab with QuenyanElf.


_The best kinds of reunions always have three things in common; they are touching and pull at your heartstrings. They make your head hurt. And, most importantly, there is ALWAYS a part that makes you feel sick to the stomach. Remember this basis for a good reunion as we proceed in the story. Trust me, it's important._

On Hagrid's birthday, only a few months after the end of the war, everybody was feeling so down that they felt a need to celebrate. So therefore, most of the Weasleys (excluding Percy and, of course, Fred), Hermione, Harry, Neville, Luna, and a few others decided to plan Hagrid a party. Charlie suggested that, as a gift, they would take Hagrid, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to Romania to visit Norberta (whom Hagrid hadn't seen in ages and sorely missed – as he had revealed in one of his particularly drunken stupors a few weeks back) and, since nobody had any better ideas, they all heartily agreed. They decided to host the party at the Weasley household, and for a few days of preparation, spirits were high, and nobody had any time to mourn about the war. In all, a very useful distraction.

Finally, the party day had arrived. Everybody was quite excited, but it only took Mrs. Weasley one shout; "EVERYBODY BE BLOODY QUIET!" for them all to shut up, though mainly out of fear.

"She's a right tyrant, she is," Ron had murmured to Harry in a resentful undertone in the quiet minutes that followed. Harry could only give a soft murmur in agreement, not wanting to risk suffering the wrath of the ginger-haired devil herself, who had been glaring suspiciously in their direction at the time.

Hagrid, who had been told that the Weasleys needed to borrow some of his Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent, knocked loudly on the door. Everybody froze.

"'ello? Molly? I 'ave yer Slug Repellent!" Hagrid's rough brogue sounded.

"Oh, uh, come on in, dear, I'm in the kitchen!" Molly Weasley called in a fake cheerful voice, which really wasn't necessary, since it merely made her voice sound a bit strained.

However, it seemed to be enough to fool Hagrid, because he stepped inside. He blinked at the darkness of the house. "'ello?" He wandered farther in. As he reached the living room, a loud spell cast by George and a shout of "SURPRISE!" from everybody else brought the lights back on, and with it, a torrent of birthday tidings.

Hagrid blinked as he looked around the room, which was adorned in a ragtag assortment of birthday decorations and random shoes and garlic (courtesy of Luna). He dropped the Repellent in surprise, and it fell open, a nasty ooze spilling into the ground, forever staining Molly Weasley's floor and leaving a permanent odor that would always linger in this particular room. But let us not concern ourselves with the Burrow and its' further progressing into a state of disrepair. Let us concern ourselves with the fact that _it is Hagrid's birthday_ and that _Hagrid's friends made a surprise party for him_ and that _the reunion is coming up soon._ So, with that being said, let's continue.

Hagrid blinked slowly in surprise. "Fer me?" He blushed.

And so the festivities began. It was a long night of partying and drinking, of stories being told, of people regurgitating because of the stench of Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent that hung in the air, of Mrs. Weasley's night consisting of absentmindedly handing people barf bags and using a few herself as she frantically attempted to remove the stain on her precious floors to no avail. To sum it up, a good night for all.

In almost no time at all it seemed, the cake was brought out.

When it was revealed, everybody gasped in awe. It was of a "majestic" Norwegian Ridgeback, black scales glinting and nostrils puffing out real smoke, eyes glinting murderously, claws dipped in what appeared to be real blood. In Hagrid's eyes, it was gorgeous. In everybody else's, it was horrifying. A few people went back to Molly for a second or – in some cases – thirteenth barf bag. But today was Hagrid's day, this was Hagrid's party, and Hagrid loved that cake so much he felt it would be hard to eat it, like he would be ruining a priceless work of art. The others had their doubts about their ability to eat the cake too, but for entirely different reasons.

"It's… it's… I don' know what ter say. 'S amazing. Thank you." Hagrid whispered in awe.

Charlie cleared his throat. "And that's not all, Hagrid." He said cheerfully. "You don't know what your present voice yet!"

Hagrid was stunned. "Nah, ye shouldn' have." He said in wonder.

"But, Hagrid," Hermione said, obviously disapproving of Hagrid's reluctance to accept a gift. "You give _us_ birthday gifts, so please just accept this one from us the _easy_ way." The tone of her voice left everybody wondering what exactly the _hard_ way was, and to be honest, they probably didn't want to know.

"Bu-" Hagrid started.

"Mate," Ron cut in, "basically Hermione's saying to shut the bloody hell up and let us give you your gift."

Hagrid sighed and nodded.

Charlie took the floor. "Hagrid, I work in Romania with dragons, and to be honest there are some very fascinating ones out there. Each species in unique, and has certain traits that often only appear within that species. Being that dragons are endangered, it makes them all the more fascinating speech. Take the Welsh Green, for example, it-"

"Ahem," Mrs. Weasley said, interrupting her son's uncharacteristic Percy-like speech. Charlie looked around and noticed that everybody's eyes were glazing over.

"Erm, ah, alright. As I was saying, there is no species quite like what is easily one of my favorite dragons, the Hungaria-"

All of a sudden, Charlie started convulsing, and every word he tried to say ended up sounding like a weasel farting. Go figure. George burst out laughing. Charlie nearly throttled him with his bare hands, before Luna stepped in.

"Fighting is not the answer," she said in a dreamy voice, darn, if she was a Muggle she probably would've been a hippie. Anyways, both Weasley brothers stopped to look at her. "You are making the Plimpies very agitated, and when they are agitated, they are very…"

Hermione cut in skeptically. "Didn't you say they were repelled by Gurdyroots? Because you're wearing a necklace of them, so how are there Plimpies?" She said triumphantly.

Luna glared at her. "There just are," she snapped. "Now shut up and let me finish talking." She turned back to the warring redheads and took back up her dreamy voice. "If you do not make amends, I shall set the Nargles on you." She warned.

George sighed reluctantly, only giving in because if he didn't it looked like Neville was going to take him by force, and spoke a quick counter-spell under his breath.

Returned to normal once again, Charlie reluctantly decided to give a slightly more direct approach. "Well, Hagrid, for your birthday Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I are taking you to see Norberta in Romania!"

Hagrid gasped. "Really?"

"Yeah, Hagrid, really." Harry said. "It's the least we could do for you."

"Naw, I jus' wanna-"

Nobody ever go to know what Hagrid wanted, because at that very moment, he passed out on the table, drunk, and began snoring loudly.

With that over with, everybody cleaned up, then went to bed, preparing for the birthday um, boy? Giant? Half-Giant? Well, let's say the birthday _person_ 's exciting trip which would, ideally, end up being one of the better reunions in the history of them all.

 **[THREE DAYS LATER]**

Charlie, Ron, Harry, and Hermione snuck out of the Burrow late at night, not wanting to have to deal with Mrs. Weasley's babying.

They reached the hill with the portkey, to discover Hagrid standing there waiting for them.

"All roight! Yer here! Oi wos begginin' ter think that ye 'd forgotten!" Hagrid whispered loudly.

Charlie checked his watch.

"Merlin's saggy underpants!" He swore. "The portkey's about to leave! Quickly, grab on!"

Everyone hastily touched a finger to said portkey, which happened to be in this case a mangy doll. Hermione flinched. It was probably infected with loads of nasty parasites, and she had a feeling that her personal hygiene was going to pay. Because of this, she decided to only touch the portkey at the last moment.

"And we're off in three… two… one!" Charlie counted out.

Hermione gasped and desperately reached out in vain, trying to make contact with the doll in time, but she was a millisecond too late, it seemed, and her hand swooped through empty air.

"Aw hell," Hermione groaned, looking around the now empty vicinity. Well, she hoped the others had a fine trip in Romania _without her._ She huffed indignantly, and made a resolution to send the others a furious Howler that would make them wish they never set off on this adventure in the first place. Jealousy roiled in her stomach for now, but later when the young witch discovered how the others had fared, she would realize just how fortunate she was to have not touched that doll in time.

 **[In Romania]**

"What do you mean, we left Hermione behind?" Harry demanded angrily.

"Exactly what I said, Harry," Charlie sighed, "Hermione didn't make it to the portkey in time."

"This is bloody ridiculous, it is!" Ron huffed. "So we can't go back and get her?"

"Nope, sorry little brother. We're seeing Norberta tomorrow, and we can't set up another portkey in that short of an amount of time."

"We're seein' mah lil baby girl tomorrow?" Hagrid's eyes lit up. "Ah can't wait!"

"Yup, some of the boys have her in a cage right now, she's fenced up at the edge of the woods at the moment, and we'll move her to a safer place tomorrow." Charlie informed him. "Now come along, your sleeping quarters are just this way."

They all fell asleep almost immediately. All, that is, except for Hagrid. He was wide awake, not able to sleep due to excitement. He soon realized that he wasn't going to the dreamworld any time soon, so he decided to do something with his time.

 _Some of the boys have her in a cage right now, she's fenced up at the edge of the woods at the moment,_ Charlie had said. Hagrid's heartbeat quickened as he realized that he could go and visit Norberta _now,_ so was there any reason to wait?

Now that he was a man with a mission, Hagrid got out of bed, pulled on his hideous brown coat, and stepped outside.

Now, Hagrid is a half-giant, and, as a particularly large man, stealthy was not one of the words you would use to describe him.

So his "slight" clamor woke up Harry, who'd had the room next to him, and the Boy Who Lived noticed Hagrid going outside.

Being the nosy guy he is, he quickly aroused Ron, and the two of them crouched under the invisibility cloak, pursuing their large friend.

Tonight was a quiet night, and surprisingly it seemed that there was nobody about. This made sneaking around particularly easy for Hagrid.

"Hum-dee-dum." He hummed in a loud, off-key tune.

This humming made it even easier for Harry and Ron to follow the half-giant.

Hagrid milled about aimlessly for a while, heading in the general direction of what appeared to be dark, silhouetted trees, but he was still quite unsure of where he was going.

"This is getting us nowhere, Harry." Ron whispered after about a half hour of sneaking after their friend. "My back is sore and my shoes are caked in dragon dung, so can we please head bac-"

He was cut off by a moderately loud and eerily familiar roar.

"Dang." Harry whispered. He glanced at Ron. "Was that-?"

His friend nodded grimly. "Reckon so, mate. And it looks like Hagrid recognizes it too."

Indeed, the large man ahead had picked up his pace, and was lopsidedly loping over to what appeared to be the source of the sound.

 **[Meanwhile, at the Burrow]**

Hermione flopped onto her bed, having just returned from that mangy hill. She doubted that she'd be able to sleep, so she grabbed a book at random and, with a whispered _lumos_ , opened it up. She let out a strangled growl of fury as she realized that it was a book about dragons. Okay, actually it was some strange book that she'd never heard of, called _Quentin Bopp and the Warty Witch from New York_ , by someone named Art Vandelay, but it turned out to be that this was a picture book, and Quentin Bopp had a pet dragon named Boogers who, based off of the fairly graphic pictures, sneezed a _lot._ But even Boogers the runny-nosed dragon could dissuade Hermione from the fact that she longed to be in Romania – dragons were _fascinating,_ and to be able to see them more-or-less in the wild and to be able to, she was sure, study them, was a once in a lifetime opportunity for most people, and she had just gone and threw that chance away, merely because she was a bloody _germophobe._ Hermione wasn't one to throw books, they were as precious as diamonds to the girl, but _Quentin Bopp_ was quite frankly so horrifying, and not to mention that her temper was fizzling up uncontrollably to the surface, that she couldn't restrain herself anymore. So she took out all of her anger on that book, and in the end of her tirade there were pages littering the floor, and the walls bore some suspicious scorch marks that hadn't been there minutes before. These marks were actually, upon further notice, furious words forever burned into the wood. They expressed vulgarities that should never be uttered (or even read) in the history of ever, but they were there, and suffice to say, George had occupied the room within a few short months of the incident. He also nagged/congratulated Hermione about this instance until the day she died, the witch living out the rest of her life in eternal shame.

But at this point, Hermione simply gasped in horror when she saw the damage that she'd done and, with surprising swiftness, had been reduced to a quietly sobbing girl on the bed, dreading the morning and facing Mrs. Weasley's inevitable wrath at the profanities that now decorated the wall, and the fact that the others had left without further notice so she, being one of the obvious conspirators, (not to mention the only one left at the house,) would undoubtedly take the brunt of the blow. If only there was a way she could reconvene with those imbeciles, then she would be able to – wait, reconvene with the others? Hermione smiled grimly. She was the brightest witch of her age. Like heck she'd find a way to get to Romania before the dawn, and when she did… well, the boys would have another thing coming to them.

 **[Back in Romania]**

Harry sighed. "Sorry, mate, it looks like we're gonna have to follow Hagrid, I have a feeling that I know what he's up to…"

Ron groaned. "We both know what the idiot's about to do, Harry. And I'm tired. Can't I go back to bed now…?"

Harry responded by setting off after Hagrid with renewed vigor, face set determinedly. Ron groaned, but reluctantly followed, complaining all the while about how his pants were going to have to be thrown away after this escapade, he highly doubted that dragon dung was able to be washed off.

Up ahead, Hagrid was practically sprinting. His heart raced. _Norberta. Norberta. Norberta._ It seemed to be thumping to him. _Hurry up. Norberta. Norberta. Norberta._ Hagrid tripped, falling face-first into the kind-of mud. He got right back up and continued doggedly onwards. _Almost there. Norberta. Norberta. Noooorrrrbbbeeerrtttaaaaaa._

"He's a bloody crazed maniac, that one." Ron panted. "Remind me again why we put up with 'im?" Harry didn't bother to answer, but instead sped up his pace, therefore forcing Ron to shut up so that he would conserve energy. Blissful silence followed, broken only by their ragged breaths.

Hagrid finally stopped in front of a large fence. He gasped. Inside was a female dragon, cruel face and murderous eyes appearing, in Hagrid's slightly biased opinion, elegant and regal, like those of dragons in legends. But, more than that, Hagrid _knew_ this dragon, he'd practically raised her as a baby, and even as an adult her face looked familiar.

He gasped. "Norberta." And the majestic beast was, indeed, the dragon he had slaved for, the dragon he had loved, the dragon he had coddled and sung lullabies to, the dragon the half-giant had been forced to give up for the sake of his job and the safety of those around him. But now, _none of that mattered. Because here Norberta was, standing majestically in front of him._ And nothing else was more important than the dragon staring loftily down at him. A lump formed in Hagrid's throat, and his eyes welled up with tears.

At this point, Hagrid was so emotional that he did possibly the most stupid thing anyone could ever possibly do. He climbed over the fence. And he stumblingly rushed at Norberta, weeping all the while, arms flung out in preparation for an embrace.

Harry and Ron, despite their best efforts, arrived only then, just in time to see a sobbing, dirty-faced Hagrid wrap his arms around Norberta's cautiously outstretched neck. She sniffed him curiously.

"Aww… you love meh too!" Hagrid sniffled, then burst into tears of joy. "Oi've missed ye so much!"

 _This is the touching part of the reunion, the one that makes you feel something deep inside and tugs at your heart… this reunion is definitely one of the best kinds. It is, after all, the beginning… of the end._


End file.
